“Shall I call the coroner?” Belami asked, seeing that the duchess was in a state similar to shock, babbling on in all directions.
“If you would be so kind. Dr. Lethbridge in Banting is the local man. And we’ll need someone to lay my brother out as well. The McIntyre sisters usually do it. Lethbridge can arrange that for us, Belami. There’s no need to go to them. You’ll be needed here for a hundred and one things.”
Belami had not the least objection to being used in this way. It was preferable to having nothing to do. It hadn’t yet occurred to him that a death in the family might delay his wedding.
“Shouldn’t we go to the house to be there when the coroner comes? I mean, it doesn’t seem right to leave Uncle Dudley there alone,” Deirdre said.
“Bother, I suppose we should,” the duchess agreed. She sighed and regretted having to leave her warm hearth, just when she had put two fresh logs on the fire. “I doubt very much whether I’m up to such exertion,” she said. A single glance was all that was needed to remind her that Deirdre, a young and healthy girl, was up to it. But she’d require a chaperone, as Belami would be hanging around and Mrs. Haskell was away. “We must send for Mrs. Haskell as well. I’ll just dash off a few notes, Deirdre, while Belami goes for the coroner, and you skip back to the Grange to keep an eye on things. I. wouldn’t put it an inch past Polly Shard to be rifling his jewelry box this very minute.”
“You mean I have to go alone?” Deirdre asked, shivering.
“Of course not, ninny! Take Mrs. Bates with you.” Her housekeeper could be spared, since a death in the family was an excellent excuse for disorganized and scanty meals. “And send her to me before you go,” she added, her eyes narrowing as a dozen other profitable details occurred to her. All the party arrangements canceled, and a few oddments at the Grange that could be claimed as her own and carried home to Fernvale before the authorities arrived to lock things up.
After a little more conversation, Belami and Deirdre left the duchess to write her notes. It was settled that Belami would deliver Deirdre to the Grange on his way to Banting for the coroner, and Mrs. Bates would join her shortly.
“I wonder how long I’ll have to stay there,” Deirdre mentioned as they joggled along in the carriage.
“I think we should either all move over there for a few days or have Dudley laid out at Fernvale,” Belami answered.
“I’d rather have him laid out at home. The Grange is even worse than Fernvale, Dick. It’s cold and dirty, and the food is wretched. Such a shabby time we’re showing you, and now this!”
“On the contrary,” he said, hoping to divert her. “You know my hobby is crime, and the duchess has just called Dudley’s death murder.”
“Pay no heed to that. How could Nevil have killed Uncle? He wasn’t even here.”
“That’s true. And besides, if he was poisoned, I’d finger the mulligatawny as the culprit. Your aunt took him over a bowl last night, you know.”
“No, did she?”
“Certainly she did. Seemed a strange gift to me, if she was hoping to ingratiate him.”
“Well, it couldn’t have been the mulligatawny’s fault, because we all ate it and are still alive,” she pointed out, but in a joking way.
“She’d have had to add poison to his portion. If a poison was used, I’d suspect arsenic. The effects could point that way.”
“Oh, dear, you’ve chosen the one poison Auntie keeps around the house!” She laughed. “There’s been a little envelope of white arsenic in that tall flower vase on the china cabinet for as long as I can remember. I don’t know why it’s there, because it’s never been used. Not to kill rats or anything. It’s just always been there, like the brass sword handle that has lost its blade. Auntie has kept it in the drawer of the hall table forever, too.”
“She’s not one to throw out anything that could possibly be used,” he answered. “Mama is just the opposite. She throws out everything she doesn’t require immediately. In that way, she can go shopping so much more often,” he explained.
“Will you come to the Grange with the coroner?” she asked as the carriage pulled up to the front door. “I don’t relish being there alone with Uncle Dudley’s remains.”
“Actually, I’ve asked Réal to deliver Dr. Lethbridge. There’s no reason for me to do it personally. I wouldn’t mind having a look around the place before he gets there.”
“You don’t really suspect foul play,” she said, blinking in surprise.
“Not suspect, exactly. The odds are about a thousand to one against it, but since I’m here I might as well practice my sleuthing skills. Sir Nevil
does
have a bit of a bad reputation. I know, you’re going to tell me Nevil wasn’t here, but he
had been
here. A clever scoundrel might arrange something if he was eager to get his hands on the money.”
"I suppose he could,” Deirdre said, but her desultory tone revealed that she didn’t believe it.
Belami didn’t actually believe it either, though the fact of Dudley’s having been sick to his stomach raised a doubt. A heart seizure didn’t have that effect.
Réal pulled up in front of the Grange and waited for any further instructions his master might have for him. “Are we h’involved in a case?” he asked hopefully. Of course he had learned by the servants’ grapevine of the death of Lord Dudley.
“C’est possible,
Réal. I’d like you to stay here when you deliver Dr. Lethbridge just in case I have any more errands.”
“We’ll talk,” Réal told him, sagely nodding his head to indicate that such conversation that would pass between them wouldn’t be for the young lady’s ears. Réal was vastly relieved that a case had come up to lighten the tedium of Fernvale. It was Réal's custom to perform all his duties beyond the expectations of the most demanding master in the land, which Belami was not by any means. As he whipped Belami’s bloods along, he cudgeled his brains to discover in what manner he could amaze Belami with his brilliance. Before he had gone a mile, a smile settled on his saturnine face. A murder required a constable, obviously. Belami had forgotten to request one, but he, Pierre Réal, would tend to it.
“I’m going to speak to Polly,” Deirdre said as soon as they had hung up their coats. “Would you like her to bring you some coffee, Dick?”
“I don’t relish drinking with a corpse. I’ll join you later.”
Deirdre knew that it was her duty to chide the servants for the lackadaisical way they’d been running the house in Mrs. Haskell’s absence. She hadn’t much heart for it, but she took herself in hand and went to the kitchen. Polly and Anna sat together at the table, their faces pale and worried. They jumped to their feet when Deirdre entered.
“Sit down,” she said, putting on her strictest face. “Now, girls, I want to know how it happens that my uncle was left all night alone at the dining room table. Who is responsible for cleaning up after dinner, and why wasn’t it done?”
“It’s her fault!” Anna declared, pointing a not overly clean finger at her colleague. Anna was one of life’s drones. She was not at all attractive—a slim, pale, haggard woman of nineteen years who had been in service with Lord Dudley for seven years of her life. It was the bane of her existence that while she did all the many chores burdened on her by Mrs. Haskell and got no praise or thanks, Polly shirked any duty she could and got by as well. Better, for she had smiled and cajoled herself into favor with the late Lord Dudley.
“Polly, you were in charge of cleaning up after dinner?” Deirdre asked, turning her cool gaze to the servant.
“Well, miss, Anna serves dinner, and I clean up after, but Tuesday was my day off.”
“You’re supposed to be back by eight!” Anna inserted.
“My ma was sick,” Polly said, glaring at her co-worker.
“You wasn’t at home, and don’t let on you was! You went to the barn dance at Ranting. I heard you laughing at the back door with Edgar Mools. Close to midnight it was, miss,” Anna announced, trying to disguise her glee as duty.
“If you knew she hadn’t returned, Anna, you might have cleaned away the dishes and seen if Lord Dudley required anything before retiring,” Deirdre said.
Life had taught Anna not to expect anything resembling justice from her betters. She stayed home and did her duties; Polly went flirting about the countryside, but in the end it was she who got the scold. “She only dared to stay away because she knew Mrs. Haskell was gone,” Anna said scornfully.
“I did not know it! She didn’t get that letter till after I left. You only told me this morning,” Polly reminded her.
“You could have heard it at the dance.”
“I wasn’t at the dance. I was home with my ma.”
“Since when is Edgar Mools your ma?”
Deirdre saw that she was making a botch of her lecture and called them to order. “At what time this morning did you get around to going to clean away last night’s dinner, Polly?” she asked.
“I got up at eight on the dot, miss.”
“You’re supposed to be up at seven!” Anna interjected.
“You weren’t up either, so never mind cutting up at me. We don’t have a clock, miss. Mrs. Haskell always wakes us, and she wasn’t here. There was no reason to be up so soon either, for Lord Dudley don’t take his pap till nine.”
“I was up and had the fire lit at seven-thirty. I even het up the milk for her and made tea,” Anna said. Despite the woman’s virtue, Deirdre found she couldn’t warm up to Anna.
“If you got up at eight, how does it come you still hadn’t notified us when I arrived here after nine o’clock?” Deirdre persisted.
“I thought the old gentleman was sleeping, miss. The way he was hunched over the table, I thought he’d drunk hisself into a stupor, as he often does, and he don’t thank you for trying to rouse him up.”
“So you left him, dead and unattended!” Deirdre scolded, but in her heart she felt nothing but pity.
“How was I to know he was dead? Mrs. Haskell wasn’t here,” she added simply. It was clear that Mrs. Haskell ruled the place with an iron fist. Even a death couldn’t occur officially without her, and Deirdre regretted her absence.
“Why did the housekeeper leave, Anna? Was it some trouble at home?” Deirdre asked.
“I didn’t see her letter. She never tells me nothing. All I know is she got called away home. She spoke to his lordship, and she left. I think her sister was having a baby, maybe. She’s mentioned it a few times.”
“She ain’t having the baby till April,” Polly announced.
“Oh, I hope she comes back soon!” Deirdre said, weary with this pointless conversation. One other matter occurred to her, and she asked about it while she had them captive. “Why did Sir Nevil not stay to help out while Mrs. Haskell was called away?” she asked Polly.
It was another inequity that Polly was the servant that the gentry, and even the other hired help, preferred to converse with. There was something in Anna’s self-righteous manner that alienated everyone she came in contact with.
“He wasn’t here. He left early in the morning yesterday,” Polly answered.
“Oh, then he didn’t know Mrs. Haskell had been called away. Do you happen to know where he was headed?”
“Polly might be able to tell you,” Anna said, again with that sly look on her face.
“How would I know? You’re the one that serves the table,” Polly reminded her.
“Aye, but you’re the one was having a bit of a private visit with him in his room before breakfast,” Anna retaliated.
Polly glared and colored up briskly. “He
did
call me in for a word, miss,” she admitted. “He wanted to know if Mrs. Haskell had his laundry ready. He might have mentioned going to Bath,” she added, but diffidently.
“Bath? Why would he go there?” Deirdre asked.
“I don’t know, miss,” Polly replied, her face trying to look innocent. “I was just there a minute. He said he wanted to get away early, for it took more than half a day to get to Bath, and he had an appointment in the afternoon.”
“I see,” Deirdre said. The only person she knew to reside in Bath was Lord Dudley’s wife, Adelaide. Her aunt had often conjectured that Sir Nevil was in league with this woman to wrest Dudley’s fortune from her hands. This news had to be sent back to Fernvale immediately.
Anna had yet another item of news. “He told Mrs. Haskell he’d stop in again on his way back to London. She told me because I had to make up his room fresh.”
“Did he say when?” Deirdre asked eagerly.
“No, miss. If he told Mrs. Haskell, she didn’t tell me. She never tells me nothing.”
Deirdre sat a moment, thinking about Sir Nevil‘s itinerary, but could make little of it. “Bring coffee upstairs, Polly. Two cups, but make a large pot. Mrs. Bates will be staying here with me today.”
“Is the gentleman that was with you before back, miss?” Polly asked. Already she had recovered sufficiently so that a glint of interest was in her flashing eyes.
“Yes, my fiancé is with me,” Deirdre replied.
“Lord Belami!” Polly exclaimed. “I thought it must be him! My, he’s handsome. When will you be married, Miss Gower?”
Deirdre softened to a smile. “Very soon.”
“Surely you won’t be married while you’re in mourning,” Anna said, shocked.
That was the first time it occurred to Deirdre that Lord Dudley’s death had come so inopportunely. She remembered Belami saying something about not having to wait for her uncle’s demise to be married. They little thought at the time how soon his death would occur.
“Perhaps a very quiet wedding,” Deirdre said uncertainly.
“After six months a quiet wedding might be all right,” Anna suggested. There was satisfaction on her thin little face and in her cabbage-green eyes.
Deirdre had never liked the girl, and she was beginning to see now why that was so. Anna was resentful—of herself, of Polly for having beaux and just generally being pretty perhaps. The only person in the world who
did
like Anna was the duchess, and she didn’t so much like her as appreciate that she was a good worker. “We shall see” was all Deirdre said.
“He didn’t look to me like a gent who’d stand around waiting for long,” Polly said boldly and laughed. “If I was you, Miss Gower, I’d snap him up quick as winking.”
It was on this happier note that Deirdre took her leave. She had planned to give Polly a last bit of a lecture about having shirked her duties during Mrs. Haskell’s absence, but she didn’t want to satisfy Anna by doing it.